


No Dogs on the Furniture

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Series: To the Moon and Back: Werewolf Mickey [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Werewolf Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: “No dogs on the furniture,” Fiona says as she comes through the front door, grinning at her own joke.“He's not a dog,” Ian says. “He's a wolf."Mickey goes with the much more eloquent response of silently flipping her off.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awkwardblogger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardblogger/gifts).



> awkwardblogger wanted the Gallaghers finding out about Mickey!

Ian cups Mickey's cheek and kisses him softly.

“See you in the mornin',” Mickey murmurs against his lips. Ian grins crookedly.

“I'm gonna see you in like two minutes.”

“You know what I mean.”

Ian rubs their noses together, hands squeezing briefly on Mickey's hips before he releases him. Mickey gives him one last lingering look before he steps into the bedroom and clicks the door shut behind him.

“Hey, Mickey just went in there, right?” Debbie appears in the hallway. Ian starts. He thought she was asleep. “He's got my highlighters.”

“Ahhh why? Why would he have your highlighters?”

“He was going through the job listings. I need them back.” Debbie reaches for the door but Ian slides in front of her.

“Woaaah. You can't go in there.”

“Uh, why not?”

“Mickey's... getting changed!”

“I've walked in on you two doing all sorts before, I think I can handle Mickey without a shirt, Ian.”

Ian feels panic rising in his chest. He hasn't moved from the door. Debbie starts to push past him again when he hears the soft whine, followed by the gentle scratch at the door. Debbie looks at him. Ian looks back with wide eyes. She pushes the door open. Mickey pads into the new opening, looking up at Ian and panting happily.

“Uh. Where'd Mickey go?” Debbie looks at Ian, eyebrows raised. Mickey barks, his tail wagging. He bumps his cold nose against Debbie's fingers, then moves to Ian's side, nuzzling into his palm until Ian pets him.

“He's right here,” Ian says.

“Very funny.”

Debbie doesn't believe him until the next morning. He won't let her watch Mickey change; if Mickey doesn't want him to see it, he's not going to let his family, but when Mickey is ready, Ian lets him into the bathroom. No windows. No closets. No way it could possibly be a trick. He brings in Mickey's sweats and one of his own hoodies. The wolf goes in. Mickey comes out in the clothes Ian had left, yawning and rubbing at his tired eyes.

“Holy shit,” Debbie says.

“Yeah,” Ian says.

“Well that's the fuckin' cat outta the bag, then,” Mickey says.

“Wolf outta the bag.” Ian grins. Mickey elbows him gently in the ribs.

“Holy shit,” Debbie says again.

All things considered, it is as good a reaction as they could have expected.

*

Ian curses the inability of his family to keep secrets. Within a day, Debbie has blabbed about Mickey's transformation, though the rest of the family seem just as unbelieving as she initially was. Except Liam, who catapults himself into Mickey's lap.

“Icky! Turn into a doggy!”

“Can't do it on command, buddy.”

“Oh.” Liam pouts. “I like doggies. We get doggy?”

“No, bean, we're not getting a dog.” Fiona gives Ian and Mickey a stern look. “You shouldn't be tellin' him tales like that.”

“Not tellin' tales,” Ian says. “It's the truth.”

“Right, yeah, and I actually hooked up with a vampire last night.”

Mickey's lip curls up, just a hint of teeth bared. His shoulders go tense. His body vibrates with a silent growl. Ian takes his hand, slips their fingers together and gives it a squeeze. Liam puts his hands in Mickey's hair and rubs them back and forward, effectively messing it up.

“Good doggy,” he says.

Ian laughs. Mickey relaxes a touch. Rubs Liam's hair in return, causing him to giggle and squirm.

“Seriously, Fiona, why would I lie about that?” Debbie asks.

“I don't know, Debs. You lied about being pregnant.”

“That was different!”

Which is how, a month later, they end up in the hall outside the bathroom again. Ian frowns at the self conscious dip of Mickey's head, the way his shoulders curl in a touch. The defensiveness of his stance. This is their time, and he hates that his family are intruding on it, are trespassing on their shared secret and tainting it. He hugs Mickey firm, cradles his head against his shoulder.

“I'm sorry about this,” he says, soft enough for only Mickey to hear.

“It's alright, man. Get it over with.” Mickey bumps his nose against Ian's cheek. Ian turns his head and kisses the corner of his mouth, brief, before letting him close the bathroom door.

The Gallaghers stand in silence, so Mickey's heavy breathing, soft, pained sounds, the cracking of bones breaking and reforming sounds loud and striking, even through the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Fiona says, barely louder than a breath. “What's that noise?”

“His body has to break down to reform,” Ian tells her, the best explanation he has. Even he doesn't fully understand it. The next sound is the quiet scratch at the door, and Ian opens it to reveal Mickey's wolf form.

“Fuck,” Fiona says.

“I told you,” Debbie says.

“Doggy!” Liam says.

“I need a drink,” Lip says.

“Now that you know we ain't lying,” Ian says. “We're goin' to bed.”

He has to gently pry Liam away, who has curled his arms around Mickey's neck and is hugging him close. He refuses to go to bed until Ian and Mickey come and tuck him in, and then he insists on having a story read. Mickey rests his head on the edge of Liam's bed and allows him to absently pet him until he falls asleep. He takes the blanket between his teeth and tugs it up to Liam's chin. Ian smiles affectionately at Mickey, scratching him behind the ear.

“I love you.”

Mickey's cold nose presses against his wrist. He moves back and licks Ian's fingers.

“I know,” Ian says, because he does.

*

Ian is texting rapidly in his group work chat, someone trying to arrange shift changes for the upcoming weeks. He covers where he can; not really in need of the overtime pay, but it means he can usually get someone to cover his shifts around the full moon. He likes to be there for Mickey when he can. He's lounging against the arm of the couch, Mickey stretched out beside him, back resting against Ian's chest, inside the circle of one of his arms.

“No dogs on the furniture,” Fiona says as she comes through the front door, grinning at her own joke.

“He's not a dog,” Ian says. “He's a wolf.”

Mickey goes with the much more eloquent response of silently flipping her off. Fiona just laughs, breezing past them to the kitchen.

*

“Hey, so, uh, are you guys into, like, collars and stuff then?”

Ian looks at Lip like he can't quite believe he's heard him right. Lip looks back, openly curious.

“Fuck off,” Ian eventually says.

“That's not a no, though.”

*

“Hey.” Ian steps through the back door, sitting his bag down. He stops by Liam's old high chair and crouches down to greet Franny, stroking her ginger curls. “You've just shot up since the last time I've seen you. Wow.”

He looks up to find Debbie and Mickey in the kitchen. Mickey is leaning against one of the counters, eating the remains of cookie dough from the wooden spoon. Debbie is standing by the oven. Ian raises an eyebrow.

“You guys bakin'?”

“Yeah, we're making dog treats,” Debbie says.

“What?”

“They're not actually dog treats,” Mickey expands. “Raggedy Ann here thought she'd be funny and make bone shaped cookies.”

Ian rolls his eyes. He crosses the room, using the pad of his thumb to swipe some cookie dough that's caught at the side of Mickey's mouth. He's intending to lick it off himself, but Mickey moves quicker, lips closing around the digit. He sucks briefly on Ian's thumb, tongue swiping along it. Ian swallows, eyes moving from Mickey's lips up to meet his gaze.

“Gross,” Debbie says, and the spell is broken. “Can you not do that in the kitchen? Not to mention in front of Franny.”

“Can you not make fun of my werewolf boyfriend every chance you get?”

“I ain't complainin' if I get free cookies out of it.”

“See? Mickey doesn't mind.”

“Mick! Don't contradict me when I'm defending your virtue.”

“Oh, wow, fuckin'- OW.” Mickey flinches as Debbie whips him with a spatula.

“I told you, no swearing in front of the baby.”

“Jesus, alright. And sorry I knocked you off your white horse, oh noble knight Ian.”

“You should be.” Ian catches Mickey's wrist and guides the spoon up to his own mouth, licking cookie dough from it. “Mm. You use vanilla extract?”

“Duh,” Debbie says.

“Tastes good.”

“Better than fuuu- freakin' Scooby Snacks.” Mickey's eyebrows raise and he glances at Debbie, but beyond a scowl, she doesn't discipline his slip. Ian laughs and kisses him on the nose.

“Mickey Snacks doesn't have the same ring to it,” Ian says. “Maybe Mickey's Munchies?”

“But I'm makin' them, so they should be somethin' like... Debbie's Delights.”

“Nah, I'm with Ian. Mickey's Munchies. And since they're bones, I guess I'm the only one that can eat them.”

“But there's chocolate in them, and dogs can't eat chocolate, right? So I guess you can't have any.”

“Fuuuck off.”

Ian springs out of the way as Debbie goes for Mickey with the spatula again and he takes off, laughing as he bounds up the stairs.

*

Lip brings a dog bowl to the dinner table. He sits it in front of Mickey. Ian is lost for words. So is Mickey. Even Fiona seems to think this is a joke taken too far. Her eyebrows scrunch together and she looks at Lip with a frown. Mickey's hands curl into fists and his shoulders go stiff. Ian knows he doesn't want to start fights with his family. Knows the jokes wear thin on him sometimes.

This. This is just fuckin' insulting. He knows Lip has his own bullshit going down, has been struggling with a drinking relapse, but that's no excuse to disrespect his boyfriend.

He's on his feet before anyone can react, and he has Lip by the back of neck, has slammed his face down into the bowl before anyone can stop him.

“Ian!” Fiona rises to her feet, but doesn't know how to interject.

“Why don't you fuckin' eat from it, asshole? Bet if we fill it with fuckin' whiskey you'd be eager enough.”

That earns him a punch in the face, but he's ready for it. He punches Lip back, tackles him to the floor, ignores Fiona crying for him to stop. Anger bubbles up. Anger and indignation on Mickey's behalf, a kind of fierce, protective energy. He's practically growling as he lays into Lip, his body vibrating with it. It takes Mickey dragging him away to get him to stop.

“Ian, Ian, look at me. It's fine. It was just a stupid fuckin' joke, alright? I don't care.”

“Fuck you, man.” Lip spits blood at him. Ian bristles. Mickey's grip tightens on his shoulder, and he pulls him back. “Listen to your boyfriend and get a fuckin' sense of humour.”

Ian shakes Mickey off and storms out the back, leaving Fiona to help Lip mop up the blood. He lights a cigarette with shaking hands, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Mickey follows him quietly. He stands by his side and watches until Ian's breathing evens out.

“You okay?”

“Lip's an asshole. I can't believe he did that.”

“Whatever.” Mickey shrugs. “It's just a joke.”

“Nah. It was a fuckin' insult. Smug asshole. Just 'cause he's miserable at the moment, he wants to drag everyone into his downward spiral.” Ian sighs, pressing his forehead against Mickey's temple. “I'm sorry.”

“You ain't got nothin' to apologise for.”

“It's my family.”

“So?”

“So... They're always giving you shit.”

“So what?”

“It's not fair. You can't control it. They shouldn't always be makin' digs.”

“'Cause it's only okay when you do it, right? Make the dumb jokes?”

“That's different. I'm your boyfriend. My dumb jokes come with the territory.”

“Yeah.” Mickey huffs a laugh, nosing against Ian's cheek. “But, seriously man. A few jokes is a lot better than I was expectin'. I thought they'd freak out, or make a big deal out of it, or... I dunno. Tell you to stop seein' me or something?”

“Why would they do that?” Ian looks at Mickey with open confusion. Mickey averts his eyes, shrugging.

“I dunno. It's kinda weird, and with all the bullshit stories and stuff... I dunno.” He clears his throat. Steals Ian's cigarette so he can take a drag on it. “Compared to what I expected, a few jokes are nothin'. It's kinda cool, actually. They've just... Went with it. Like it's no big deal.”

“It's not. Well, it is. But like, in a cool way.”

Mickey laughs. He tilts his head up and blows out a stream of smoke, before catching Ian by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a firm kiss.

“I can fight my own battles, alright? Stop using me as an excuse to punch your brother.”

“Like I need an excuse.”

*

“I'm gone for a couple of months and Ian starts dating a werewolf? Man, I miss everything,” Carl says, his voice crackly across the speaker phone line. “Is his name Jacob?”

“No, it fuckin' ain't,” Mickey shouts, and Ian disguises his laugh against his hair.

“Nah, it's Mickey Milkovich,” Fiona clarifies.

“Wait, Mickey Milkovich is gay? And a werewolf?”

“And my boyfriend,” Ian adds cheerily.

“I can see the werewolf thing, I'm more surprised he takes it up the ass.”

“Oh for fuck sake.” Mickey scowls, but Ian sees the lightest blush start on his cheekbones. He laughs and peppers kisses along it. “Likin' what I like don't make me a bitch.”

“But does the werewolf thing?” Carl ponders.

“Y'know what, I'm just gonna take you off speaker,” Fiona says, throwing Mickey an apologetic glance. He just sighs and presses his face against a giggling Ian's shoulder.

*

“Ian, Icky, I made you drawing at school.”

“Yeah?” Ian smiles, taking a uniform clad Liam's hand. Liam reaches his other hand up for Mickey to take. He does so, and both he and Ian swing Liam in a high arch when they step off the sidewalk. He giggles delightedly. “You'll have to show us when we get home.”

Once they're in the door, Liam digs through his backpack and produces a crayon drawing of Ian, his hair a wild, orange scribble that looks more like fire than hair. By his side, coming up to his chest, is a large, black dog shape; Mickey in wolf form.

“You've grown,” Ian notes, trying not to laugh. “That's great, Liam.”

“Yeah, buddy. You've really captured Ian.”

“How about we put this on the fridge?”

“Yeah!” Liam bounces along beside him as Ian makes his way to the kitchen, using one of their magnets to pin Liam's drawing up on the fridge. He smiles proudly once it's displayed, giving Ian's leg a little pat of thanks. Then he goes back to Mickey, reaching up to be lifted. Mickey's still unsure around Liam, not used to dealing with kids, but he's getting better. He scoops him up and rests him in the crook of his elbow. “Are cats scared of you?”

“What?”

“'Cause cats are scared of dogs.”

“I, uh. Never really been around a cat to find out.”

“Okay,” Liam says simply, patting Mickey's head before he wriggles out of his grasp. “I'm hungry.”

“I'll make you something now,” Ian says. “Go do your homework.”

“Okay.”

“He thinks you're real cool, y'know?”

“Probably the only person that does.” Mickey huffs a laugh, trying to brush it off, but Ian can tell he's secretly pleased.

“Nah.” He smiles, tugging Mickey close by his waistband and kissing his temple. Mickey bumps his nose against Ian's cheek in return. “I think you're pretty cool, too. Even if you do wear a ridiculous amount of beige.”

 


End file.
